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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28625244">a decent chap</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/calvinahobbes/pseuds/calvinahobbes'>calvinahobbes</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yikesola/pseuds/yikesola'>yikesola</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>2009 Era (Phandom), M/M, Meet the Family, POV Alternating</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:41:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,646</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28625244</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/calvinahobbes/pseuds/calvinahobbes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yikesola/pseuds/yikesola</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“The fabled danisnotonfire.” Martyn can’t help a smirk when the poor boy’s eyes flicker quickly away from his at the mention of his Twitter handle. “Welcome. You boys want a nightcap?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dan Howell/Phil Lester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>187</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a decent chap</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahappyphil/gifts">ahappyphil</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy birthday, Keelin! Can you believe Martyn lived in London in 2009? How convenient! Okay no more teasing, we love you and we hope you have a wonderful day &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What happened to your face?” Martyn laughs as he watches Phil stumble up the stairs towards him. He looks absolutely the worse for wear, a little drunk, a little disheveled.</p><p>Phil’s eyes widen and he slaps a hand to his cheek with too much force. The sound echoes in the hallway. “What?”</p><p>“You’ve still got cat whiskers.” The boy behind him, whom Martyn has been unable to make out until now, steps onto the landing next to Phil, looking at him rather than Martyn. His voice is quiet and soft, a mumble clearly only meant for Phil.</p><p>This boy is tall, taller even than Phil, and lanky. Martyn thinks boy although he should probably consider him a young man, but there’s something distinctly puppyish about him. The fuzzy brown fabric wrapped around his shirt may be contributing to that, though. Martyn knows he’s staring but he must admit he’s been curious to see this friend Phil asked to bring round to crash after another one of his geeky meetups in the city. </p><p>“Oh,” Phil says and giggles. “Mar, this is Dan.” He makes some kind of indistinguishable motion with his arm, but his face is practically glowing, his voice sounding like he is presenting the eighth wonder of the universe.</p><p>“The fabled danisnotonfire.” Martyn can’t help a smirk when the poor boy’s eyes flicker quickly away from his at the mention of his Twitter handle. “Welcome. You boys want a nightcap?”</p><p>“It’s not too late for you, Mar?” Phil asks as he trundles into the small flat, kicking off his shoes and shrugging his coat off in a familiar flailing of limbs. Dan hangs back, kneeling to carefully untie his shoes once Phil is at a safe distance, hangs his down vest up with a brief pause of deliberation. The boy needs a drink for sure, Martyn thinks wryly as he adjusts the volume of the music Phil is sure to whine about soon anyway just because it isn't some radio pop number.</p><p>“Nah,” Martyn says affably and goes to the cupboard to get out the alcohol. “You find the place alright?” He swallows the <i>this time</i> out of some modicum of brotherly courtesy but he clearly didn’t need to, because Phil’s affirmative is instantly accompanied by a snort from Dan. Martyn looks at him in amusement, and Dan’s eyes flicker away again.</p><p>Phil glances at Dan. “We just had to walk a bit. Bus 56 and then left at the pub.” He tips his chin up in that defensive way he has.</p><p>“Or was it 65 and right at the pub?” Dan teases, making an exaggerated thinking face, rolling his eyes and grinning.</p><p>“Shut up,” Phil huffs and shoves at his shoulder.</p><p>Dan grins at the floor, long brown fringe flopping over his eyes. </p><p>Martyn thinks, <i>“Oh.”</i></p><p>He doesn’t know why he wasn’t certain before, even with the sudden slew of very public communication he’s been a witness to on Twitter and the sheer number of times Phil has managed to mention Dan in casual conversation this past month. But somehow he wasn’t sure that Dan wasn’t just another one of Phil’s seemingly interminable number of strange acquaintances off the YouTube. And in a much similar vein he’s not sure what it is about this tiny touch and little inside joke that tips the scale for him. Maybe he just recognizes flirting when he sees it.</p><p>He hands Dan a drink, meeting large soft brown eyes with what he hopes is a kind enough gaze, not so curious or invasive as to scare the kid off completely. But god is he curious. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Unlike the first time Dan had been able to hang out in person with Phil, where he had spent 90% of it staring at him and 10% with his eyes closed while either laughing or sleeping or kissing, this time breaks down a little differently. Mostly because he’s currently splitting it with 65% staring at Phil and 35% at Martyn. He’s just trying to pin down this brother of his favourite person— someone who Dan had only known before tonight as mookentooken on Twitter and who, he now realises, is <i>fully</i> aware of all the excessive tweets he and Phil have been shooting at each other for months. </p><p>He’s shit at realising the version of himself that exists online and the version of himself that exists in the real world has to collide sometimes. Like when plastering <i>bisexual</i> all over Myspace had actual consequences. And like here when he’s doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out if Martyn would’ve ever stumbled across one of his nakedbooths or not. </p><p>So he distracts himself by staring at Phil and staring at Martyn, and only looking at the drink in his hand when he brings it up for a sip. </p><p>He’s trying to figure out if they actually look alike or not. He knows Adrian looks like a shrunken down version of himself, but Martyn and Phil… don’t? Except they <i>do</i>?</p><p>If he takes their eyebrows, their noses, their smiles as individual pieces, then no. Phil and Martyn don’t look alike. But when one of them tells a joke and the other matches their laugh and Dan’s eyes bounce between the two of them mirroring in the way they bend forward, then yes, of course they do. </p><p>“Earth to Dan,” he hears Phil say, and dodges the hand heading towards his already ruined fringe which Phil was going to pretend to be knocking on a door with. “Did Mar make that drink too strong for you?” </p><p>“No!” Dan says in that defensive sort of way that he knows proves the opposite. But it isn’t just the drink Martyn made for them once they showed up to his flat after the Halloween Gathering. It’s the social exhaustion of trying to prove to himself and all the YouTubers around him that he deserved to be there. It’s the drain from sweating through his slapdash Fabricland costume all night. It’s the trying to let himself enjoy these precious hours before Phil has to head back up north and not fixate on the ticking clock. </p><p>Figures when all that is mixed with a minty sort of cocktail in a way too adult highball glass considering what he had expected of Phil’s brother, he just ends up zoning out. Staring at the bridges of their noses and not paying any attention to what conversation is actually happening. </p><p>“I was giving Martyn shit for not watching your videos yet,” Phil smiles. He’s got a sleepy smile, still tired from filming ApartmentRed in Dublin. Dan doesn’t mind; sleepy Phil is cuddly. He’s sat leaning against Dan’s arm right now, would have his head on Dan’s shoulder if he bent it back. He doesn’t seem at all miffed that he’s doing this in front of his brother, and Dan can <i>only</i> chalk that up to how it’s nearing 3am. </p><p>Dan knows he would never be this chill in front of his own brother, or any of his family for that matter. He knows his brother would never be this chill in front of him. </p><p>“Don’t,” Dan shakes his head. “Oh god, please don’t let him talk you into it!” </p><p>Martyn laughs. “I don’t even catch half of Phil’s videos, it’s not personal.” </p><p>“But we filmed one together,” Phil whines. “You could have the decency to watch that. Two comedic geniuses for the price of one video.” </p><p>“We’re claiming comedic geniuses, are we?” Dan falls further into the sofa laughing. “Not sure all this smudged sharpie make us seem very credible,” he says, lifting a sleepy heavy hand and poking at what’s left of Phil’s whiskers. </p><p>“Oh, that I’ve seen plenty of,” Martyn says. </p><p>“Hey!” Phil pulls the neck of his shirt up over his nose. </p><p>“Well, I have,” Martyn laughs in such an almost-familiar way to Dan that he briefly wonders if he could tell the difference blindfolded. “Always coming down from your room with scribbles on your face, couldn't think of a normal way to get high like the other kids on the street, huh?” </p><p>“Oh dear,” Dan says, feeling a quick rush of bravery and ready to joke around with Phil’s brother, “so he wasn’t even normal then?” </p><p>Martyn pantomimes digging deep in his memory. “I mean, he’d have an off day when he was sick or something.”</p><p>“Abuse,” Phil places his hand over his heart. “You’re both attacking me!” Phil leans forward to really sell the wounded act. It means he’s no longer leaning on Dan’s arm. But as soon as he’s done, Dan feels Phil’s solid form fall right back against him with more warm shakes of laughter. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Dan cracks a yawn, his whole face splitting apart so Phil can suddenly see his tonsils, great wide cavern of a mouth. It seems to come out of nowhere and when Dan’s jaw snaps back shut they blink at each other in momentary surprise. Then Phil starts giggling, which seems to set Dan off. It reminds Phil of when they were last together, Dan suddenly so overcome with sleepiness that he conked out right on top of Phil on his parent’s sofa.</p><p>“Alright, alright,” Martyn laughs. “I can take a hint. Guess it’s someone’s bedtime?”</p><p>Dan blushes, a furious bright red that Phil can’t quite guess the exact reason for. He wants to feel that flush, but Dan pulls his head away when he sees Phil’s hand coming.</p><p>“Wouldn’t want you to fall asleep on my sofa,” Martyn continues. “Phillie here loves any chance to take a creepshot and I doubt you want that popping up online.” He laughs, getting to his feet with a hearty chuckle that seems to go on and on. Phil looks at Dan now that Martyn’s back is turned.</p><p>“You <i>would</i>, huh. Phone full of creepshots,” Dan says and points a finger, but there’s no heat behind the words, only a vibrating kind of exhaustion that is also familiar to Phil. He pretends to try to bite, and then Dan has left his side to follow Martyn.</p><p>“You can have Hazza’s room,” Martyn is saying as he clicks on the light. “He’s off with some people in Brighton doing god knows what.”</p><p>Phil stumbles to his feet and follows his brother and Dan. Both the bedrooms are tiny and cramped. Apparently Hazza doesn’t own a bed frame, the bare mattress taking up most of the floor space.</p><p>“I assume you’re alright with sharing,” Martyn says, raising his one eyebrow in that ironic older brother way that Phil will never be able to copy.</p><p>“Oh my god, shut up, Mar,” Phil mumbles and pushes at him, which just makes Martyn snort. </p><p>“Right!” Martyn says, suddenly very loudly, making Phil jump. He claps a hand on Dan’s shoulder, making Dan’s eyes widen in a way that would be comical if Phil were just 5% less nervous. “I’ll leave you to it. Bathroom’s across the hall. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” He winks at Dan, who blushes helplessly all over again and looks so sad about it that Phil can’t hold back another loopy giggle and forgets to dodge when Mar reaches to ruffle his hair roughly as he passes. </p><p>Dan seems lost in thought for several seconds, staring at the door after Martyn. Phil stands there and watches him, feeling his blood crash through him in that way it can do when you’ve been up too many hours and done too many things and seen too many people. </p><p>The door they are suddenly afforded seems to wake him up again, though, a whole new shot of adrenaline washing through his system. He goes to close it, feeling his heart pick up its tempo as it clicks shut. They've been alone at various points throughout the day, but not like this. Dan’s eyes look black at him in the overhead light, his face pale again. He’s staring at Phil now, but whether that’s because he is specifically looking at Phil or because Phil walked into his line of sight is difficult to tell.</p><p>“Hi,” Phil says quietly, quirks a smile. </p><p>It seems to wake Dan up, but he doesn’t respond. Instead he turns and takes in the room, the posters of obscure bands on the wall, the dresser piled high with strange objects (a bike helmet, candles, spare change, crumpled up bits of paper, a white miniature bust of some man in a wig), a bass tucked up in a corner. Phil registers these things, too, but only because Dan is looking at them, because it reminds him of two weeks ago when it was his room Dan was studying with such put-upon intent. Sweat seems to spring up on his palms at this thought, heart beating heavily in his chest. </p><p>“I can take the sofa, you know,” Phil says because he has to, because Martyn was too busy teasing them to give Dan any options, because this is only the second time they’re seeing each other and maybe now that Dan has had his second look he’s realising that he’s seen enough, seen all there is to see.</p><p>But Dan snorts, still not looking back at Phil and says, “As if I’d let you.”</p><p>“Oh. You want the sofa?” It comes out probably far too pathetic, but all he can see of Dan is his ear, the curve of his upper back, the way his hair is curling up at the back of his neck.</p><p>At least it finally spurs Dan into motion, even if that motion is just rolling his eyes to finally look at Phil. “No, dingus,” he says. Then after a beat he steps closer, catching up Phil’s hand and swinging it back and forth a bit. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Dan is surprised by how much of this feels familiar considering he’s never been here before. Here being Martyn’s flat, or a YouTube gathering. Being in the sweaty remains of his bear costume with sharpie smears still on his face. At the same time though, some of it is so familiar it’s almost giving him déjà vu— Phil nervously acting like one of them is going to bother sleeping on the sofa, their hands swinging threaded together, the voice in his head screaming he’s being an idiot when he ignores it entirely and leans forward to kiss Phil. </p><p>Phil’s reaction is familiar too. Already Dan knows to expect the half-second of surprise, the frozen moment where Phil’s brain is catching up. He knows to expect the eagerness when Phil finally reacts. The hands insistent at his hips and the little bites at his lips between kisses. </p><p>He really likes that he knows to expect that. He really likes that he and Phil don’t feel like strangers, even if this is only the second time they’ve visited each other in person. </p><p>The sound of a toilet flushing and the sink turning on down the hall reminds Dan that they aren’t alone. They had been so fucking alone last week. Dan hadn’t exactly taken it for granted; he just hadn’t thought about a potentially eavesdropping brother when he was getting flashes of ideas about replacing the sharpie marks on their faces with entirely different marks in entirely different places. </p><p>Which, yes, he still intends to do. He’s just gonna have to be quiet about it. </p><p>“Toothbrush,” he says, pulling back and delighting in the fact that Phil leans forward with him because he doesn’t want to stop kissing just yet. “Do not need to still be tasting whatever your brother kept handing us by morning.” </p><p>“Toothbrush,” Phil nods, “and getting out of these jeans,” he adds and twists several fingers into Dan’s belt loops. </p><p>Dan reaches his long arm around Phil and gives a half-teasing, half-earnest slap to what he can reach of Phil’s ass considering the bedroom door is in the way. He also takes his other hand and covers Phil’s mouth when he sees that Phil was about to scold him for it. “Read my mind,” he giggles. </p><p>Phil licks Dan’s palm and Dan slaps Phil’s ass one more time before moving his hand as some untallied sort of payback. </p><p>They grab their toothbrushes and the pyjama pants they are rolled in and tiptoe over to the toilet at the back of the flat. They whisper their banter as they brush, as though Martyn could have possibly fallen asleep that quickly. </p><p>Maybe they’re just preparing for how quiet they’re going to have to be, Dan thinks. Which, if it is, they’re already failing considering every other snorted giggle comes out way too loud. </p><p>There’s a little bit of the sleepover giddiness he remembers from being a kid. But that giddiness came from nerves and dread pumping his veins with self-preservational adrenaline. Whereas this comes from… fun? </p><p>Like, actual giddiness. </p><p>Because Phil is fun, and spending time with him is really fucking good. And Martyn is fun, offering Dan these glimpses of still unfamiliar sides to Phil. </p><p>So even in this unfamiliar flat and after a full day of engaging mostly with strangers and the high alert he’s learned to carry around with him in new situations, he knows that he <i>can</i> feel giddy here. That it’s safe. </p><p>They scrub the smeared remains of bear freckles and cat whiskers off with bar soap and warm water. Phil flicks warm water at Dan’s fringe, and sure he’s already sweated most of the curl back long ago but he still tries to ninja kick Phil for doing it anyway. </p><p>Neither of them point out how dumb it is to change into those pyjama pants considering they will soon be pulled off, mostly because of how good it feels to take off the clothes they’ve been wearing through this long day and put on something clean for however long it takes them to walk back from the toilet to the mysterious Hazza’s room. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Phil doesn’t bother to offer sleeping on the sofa a second time. In fact, he doesn’t say anything at all once the door clicks behind him. A delicious, quick little click which tells him there are no more people looking. No people at the train station, no fellow YouTubers, no brothers. No one there to see him get close to Dan, no one to judge them for the way they tumble and crash inelegantly onto the haphazardly made bed, snorting and squeaking as they struggle to get under the covers.</p><p>They end up side by side, knees knocking together, faces so close Phil can feel Dan's warm minty breath on his face. </p><p>"You tired?" Phil murmurs. </p><p>"No," Dan says quickly. Then he laughs and says, "yes." His face is close enough that it's not just a blur even in the dark and with Phil’s shit eyesight, but the gloom still washes most details from his features so Phil reaches out to feel the blush he expects to find on his cheek. This time Dan doesn't dodge it like he did earlier on the sofa, accepting Phil's finger jabbing into his soft skin.</p><p>"How was your first gathering, then?" </p><p>Dan looks at him quietly and Phil can feel himself sinking into the mindset of their soft-spoken late-at-night conversations. It's not that he doesn't still want other things. It's just that he wants this too: wants to hear how Dan is doing, wants it now while he can feel the heat and weight of him by his side. </p><p>Dan takes his hands, twists their fingers together again, thumb sweeping hypnotically over Phil's knuckles. "It was good." He pauses, frowns. Phil drinks in the sight of him thinking. Watching it happen in real time, rather than waiting for a text back and knowing Dan is wrestling with the words. "It felt... weird. Like I knew them already?" Phil nods, because he knows what Dan means and because he wants him to say something more. "Like I didn't have to explain myself."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>In the low light, Dan's teeth glint in a smile. "Like hanging out with you."</p><p>Phil has to push at him. "Hey. Not <em>quite</em> like that. Would you say?" The last bit should have stayed tucked away under Phil’s tongue, but it slips out with too much uncertainty in it. </p><p>With a huff of a laugh, Dan rolls into him, tucking his face under Phil's chin. Phil's stomach thrills. He loves it, he wants more of it, but he also wants to see Dan's face more. He throws an arm over him in frustration, thrilling again at the sensation of so much skin. </p><p>"Maybe not quite like that," Dan says, only it's doubly hard to hear because his lips are pressed distractingly up against Phil's neck now, mumbled words buzzing maddeningly against his pulse. Dan pulls away a bit, but only so far that his breath is still like a physical touch against Phil's skin. When he speaks again he's using his thinking voice and Phil swallows heavily, trying his best to concentrate on the sound reaching his ears and not the rising heat in his crotch. </p><p>"With everyone else it's like... oil and water. No matter how hard I try to fit in I just... float back to the surface. Only sometimes, it feels like sinking." </p><p>Phil hums, runs his hand up Dan's naked back and into his hair. "So today you've been water?" He thinks. "No, that doesn't make sense; you're fire.”</p><p>“I’m literally <i>not</i> on fire, thank you very much,” Dan pouts. </p><p>It’s that exaggerated pretend pout that almost stops Phil’s train of thought, but he struggles on. “I mean like, we've been like fire? What's something that mixes well with fire? Petrol?"</p><p>Dan snorts wet air over him making Phil twitch and tighten the fingers in Dan's hair. "That would make an explosion."</p><p>"We get on like a house on fire!" Phil says in a weird attempt at an American accent. </p><p>"Shut up," Dan says but his lips are curling away from his teeth, up close against Phil again. </p><p>"Some people like the smell of petrol," Phil muses, maybe just to wind Dan up a bit more. Maybe also to think about how he’s never felt like oil and water around Dan. Maybe also to drive home that Dan makes him feel like he doesn’t have to explain himself either. That Dan just seems to get Phil. And he likes it as much as he likes the smell of petrol; they both make him lightheaded. "They're like, mmm, yeah, bottle that right up." He huffs in an exaggerated whiff, but all it does is fill his nose up with Dan and make his head spin. </p><p>Then Dan is pushing Phil onto his back and clambering onto him, pressing him into the mattress. "No more talking," he says, mumbles as he presses down close against Phil again. </p><p>Phil can absolutely do that. He stops talking and instead bites a gentle little bite at the exposed shoulder he’s been wanting to bite all night. </p><p>Dan makes the same whimpering sound he had made last Monday when Phil had done the same thing. The whimpering sound Phil has been replaying in his mind ever since. He’s had plenty to drink tonight but he’s also pretty fucking sure he could drink that sound right up and it would get him twice as floaty. </p><p>Dan’s arm curls around Phil's head and his hand gets into Phil’s hair, and Phil twitches his hands against Dan's back, lets out a little whimpering sound of his own. It’s quieter, but the patch of Dan’s skin where Phil’s breath hits rises in little goosebumps. </p><p>Phil is greedy. He wants more than the satisfaction of a late-night Skype wank. He wants more than the buzz he got earlier when he and Dan stole kisses by the fountain. He wants to take and take and take anything that Dan will give him— and Dan seems ready to let Phil be greedy, leaning over Phil like a warm and very horny koala and fastening his lips insistently to the side of Phil's neck. </p><p>It takes a while before either of them is tired enough to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Martyn is used to waking up to the clatter of people so he's not immediately sure why his half-awake brain is trying to tell him he's back in his family home. Yet here he is in his London flat, bare walls and dirty sheets, hearing pans clatter and feeling like he's home for the holidays. </p><p>He realises it's Phil's off-key singing that has done him a number a moment later when he hears something splat on the floor and his brother mutter, “Fuck…” </p><p>Whatever had fallen is cleaned up by the time Martyn makes his way into the kitchen and grabs the glass of water past-him cleverly remembered to leave on the counter. He drinks half of it in one gulp and looks at his younger brother with strange jealousy. It’s been a while since Martyn was twenty-two and didn’t know what a hangover was. </p><p>“Whatcha making?” he asks. </p><p>The look Phil sends his way is oddly furtive, slightly shy. “Scrambled eggs.” </p><p>“Bit fancy,” Martyn teases. “Toast always does me after a party.” </p><p>Phil keeps his eyes on the pan. “I made eggs for Dan when he was up last week,” he says, letting Martyn infer all the rest. </p><p>There's a shuffle behind him that interrupts Martyn from having to come up with an answer. He turns to greet a sleep-bedraggled Dan, adorably rubbing at his eyes and slumping in apparent exhaustion. He's fully dressed, though, much in contrast to Phil and Martyn who are both still in their pyjama bottoms. </p><p>"Good morning," Phil says with such cheer that Martyn almost feels like he's intruding. He watches as Dan goes over, seemingly pulled in very close to Phil's orbit only to pull back a bit again. </p><p>Dan hums in reply, and Phil turns back to watch the pan. He picks his song back up, yet another one of his interminable made-up numbers with no discernible rhythm or melody. Martyn is used to them; they've formed a familiar soundtrack to his entire childhood, and you really would think Phil would've grown out of them at some point - but there are many things Phil doesn't seem prone to growing out of. Not many other people that he knows of seem to gel with Phil's oddities so it's entirely unexpected to him when Dan suddenly joins in. He harmonises with Phil as if he even knows the weird little ditty, and he smiles wryly when Phil giggles in delight.</p><p>Martyn retreats to the nearest chair and sits down as the two of them continue harmonising over the stove. It progresses from there into a weird banter about The X-Factor and something called Jedward, the two of them laughing and knocking into each other constantly. </p><p>Once they’re both sat at the table, eating off of Martyn’s mismatched plates and not giving him a hard time for it the way his flatmate’s girlfriends do, Martyn notices a dark spot on his brother’s neck he had probably attributed to a shadow earlier. </p><p>He has the brotherly instinct to take the piss. </p><p>But he’s also noticed that Dan’s shoulders are actually relaxed in a way Martyn wouldn't have thought the nervous boy stumbling into his flat behind his brother yesterday was going to manage. He had pretty much assumed that Dan’s resting stance was all tension. Instead, he’s sitting and joking with Phil about a video game Martyn hasn’t played in like ten years. And Phil is laughing with that big scrunched smile Martyn doesn’t see him laugh every day. </p><p>So he bites back the comment about hickeys and hoover marks, and steals a sip from Phil’s coffee when he isn’t looking. Dan sees and rolls his eyes and doesn’t rat Martyn out. Martyn steals a second sip while thinking he could get used to this boy hanging round.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading. Come say hi on <a href="https://calvinahobbes.tumblr.com/post/639755688735817728">tumblr</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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